


utterly ensnared

by wrennette



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Play, Anal Sex, Cock Warming, Established Relationship, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), PWP, Present Tense, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 23:14:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 644
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11793468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrennette/pseuds/wrennette
Summary: It’s not unusual for Obi-Wan to play bait when he and his Master have to do reconnaissance in a club.





	utterly ensnared

**Author's Note:**

> This presumes an of-age but still-a-Padawan Obi-Wan, although ages are unspecified. If that's not your bag, this won't be your fic.

It’s not unusual for Obi-Wan to play bait when he and his Master have to do reconnaissance in a club. Even in Jedi tunics, he’s an attractive morsel. Generally, he strips off his utility belt and all his tunics save the innermost, then loops his Padawan braid around his nerftail. When he’s dancing, no one is looking at his hair. They’re looking at the way his lithe body moves to the beat, the gleam of sweat beading on his face and neck. 

Obi-Wan writhes on the dance floor, and every low life in the place is drawn to him like moth to flame. Covetous hands trail over his torso and flanks, some bold enough to grab his ass or cock. Obi-Wan doesn’t mind. He grinds against the beings encircling him, entices them beyond reason. It’s only a show though. He knows at the end of the night, it’s his Master who will be walking him home, his Master who will undress him and kiss his neck, his shoulders, the long line of his spine. 

Qui-Gon tests his patience, his endurance, every time Obi-Wan baits the trap. He watches Obi-Wan move to the beat, hips swaying, all formalities stripped away. Like this, Obi-Wan is but a man, lissome and enticing, all lithe muscles and silken skin, eyes flashing in invitation. There is no resistance to that. Obi-Wan draws their prey like a flower draws bees. They circle like predators, never realizing that they have been ensnared by someone more powerful than themselves. 

For all that Obi-Wan is excellent bait, Qui-Gon is never happier than when he has his sweet young lover to himself. He delights in kissing others touches off Obi-Wan’s skin, in relearning every rise and dip in Obi-Wan’s musculature. He kisses down Obi-Wan’s spine, kneeling as he spreads Obi-Wan’s muscular buttocks and licks his sweaty crease. Obi-Wan lets out a shivering moan, and Qui-Gon buries his face, licking and sucking, nibbling gently at the tender flesh. He loves Obi-Wan like this, trembling and eager, trying so hard not to beg to be filled. He licks and he licks and he licks until Obi-Wan is loose and wet, almost unbearably open, his pucker fluttering and winking. 

Only when Obi-Wan is incoherent with need does Qui-Gon ease in the first of his fingers. By the time Qui-Gon has Obi-Wan stretched four fingers wide, Obi-Wan’s muscles are like putty, warm and soft under Qui-Gon’s hands. Qui-Gon fingers and plays, mapping every minute tremble he wrenches from Obi-Wan’s begging body. Obi-Wan’s prostate is overstimulated by the time Qui-Gon finally pushes his cock into his beloved Padawan. He milks Obi-Wan dry from the inside before he ever sinks into the loose pucker of Obi-Wan’s anus.

Every time Qui-Gon finally fills Obi-Wan, it is a revelation. Every time he is amazed by how warm Obi-Wan is, how pliant and welcoming. Obi-Wan’s body gives way as if made to take penetration, and Qui-Gon manhandles his dazed and desirous lover easily, positioning Obi-Wan as he pleases. Obi-Wan moans softly when their shifting stimulates his sensitized prostate, and they both know that by the end of the night, Obi-Wan will be sobbing. Qui-Gon takes his time, drawing out every breath of desire, every exhalation of pleasure. Obi-Wan is quiet but vocal, treating Qui-Gon to soft breathless moans and throaty cries, aching pleas for Qui-Gon to finish inside him. 

“Good boy,” Qui-Gon murmurs in Obi-Wan’s ears in these moments. “My good, sweet boy.” Obi-Wan comes dry, whimpering and overwhelmed with pleasure. Qui-Gon holds him, then fills his trembling body to the brim, pumping come deep into him and breathing praise against silken hair. Obi-Wan is limp beneath him by the time Qui-Gon finishes, and Qui-Gon lays over him, pinning him in place and savouring the younger Jedi’s lean strength. Finally, his body covering Obi-Wan’s, every inch of them aligned, Qui-Gon is utterly ensnared.


End file.
